Page 38 of The Pureblood Daughter
She waits a moment, then two, but the viscount doesn’t respond. He’s gone from her head, and she’s left with nothing more than her own thoughts.
Suddenly bursting with anger, Adelina hurries to the door and yanks the knob, rattling the lock on the other side. She has to get out, has to ensure the viscount doesn’t meet his end on her doorstep.
“Do you need something, Miss Gray?” one of the footmen asks, his voice unreasonably calm. Perhaps she should lockhimin a room and see how he feels then.
“I need you to open this door!” she yells, slapping her palm against the wood. “You can’t keep me in here!”
“We’ve been instructed not to let you out, miss. It’s for your own safety. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Groaning, Adelina rakes her fingers through her dark hair and stalks across the room to the window. A mist hovers in the back garden, clinging to the rose bushes and honeysuckles, drifting around the trunk of the old elm tree. Visibility is limited, and the storm shows no signs of letting up.
Worry coursing through her veins, Adelina resumes her pacing. She walks from one end of the room to the other, chewing her thumbnail as she waits for shouts or gunfire to ring out from the foyer below.
It’s a miracle the floorboards aren’t worn through by the time Lord Rosetti’s voice slips into her head once more.
I’m here.
Heart racing, Adelina ceases her pacing and strains to hear anything from the foyer on the first floor. Two maids speak in low voices in the hall, their footsteps soft on the runner, but no other conversation can be heard.
Where?she asks.
Come to your window.
Softly as she can muster, Adelina crosses her room and looks out her window, and there, in the garden, staring right up at her, is the viscount.
The sight of him sends two feelings coursing through her veins: want and fear. She wants to feel his hands on her skin yet is terrified of what he is, what it could mean for everything she’s ever known.
What are you doing out there?Adelina calls out to him, and it’s the strangest thing to hear his voice in her head while his lips remain unmoving.
I’m getting you out of here. Come, hurry now.
How? Two footmen guard my door at all times. I can’t leave.
Open your window, Miss Gray.He lifts a hand as if to beckon her.I’ll catch you.
Adelina very nearly laughs out loud at the preposterous idea. Catch her? He’s mad. But then again, heisspeaking to her in her head...
Are you certain?
She scans the garden, noting its distance from her second-story bedroom and the candlelight shining through the windows onto the veranda to Lord Rosetti’s right. A figure moves through the light, casting a shadow, but the viscount’s gaze never wavers. He stands still as a statue, one hand held out, his green eyes narrowed in focus. Adelina has to glance away just to catch her breath.
“This is absurd,” she whispers, pulling back from the window and scanning her bedroom in a frenzy.
She catches her reflection in the full-length mirror—still in her morning dress, dark hair loose and hanging to her waist, eyes rimmed in purple and black—and briefly considers changing into something more appropriate, but there’s no time. Rose or one of the maids could be up at any moment, and she can scarcely fathom how they’d react to seeing her leap from her window into the pouring rain.
Her gaze falls to her writing desk, and she hurriedly opens the drawer and retrieves the pouch containing the silver bullet. She tucks it securely into her bosom and takes a breath in an effort to still her racing heart.
Out of the corner of her eye, something glimmers, and she turns her head to see her necklace—the silver vial from her father—lying atop her vanity. Her first thought is to retrieve it and clasp it about her neck, but then she remembers the lock on her door and the crash of porcelain against the floor and instead turns for the window, leaving the necklace where it lies.
Hands trembling, Adelina carefully opens the window, hoping it doesn’t protest and announce her escape to the footmen. The sash slides free smoothly, and a chill breeze sweeps into the room, tossing Adelina’s hair back. She leans forward, the rain pelting her face, sending a shiver across her skin.
Jump, the viscount says, holding both arms up to her now.
She glances at her bedroom door, still shut and barred from the outside, and her mind is made up: she’ll not spend another moment imprisoned in this room.
Gathering up her skirt, she seats herself on the windowsill and shimmies her legs around so they’re hanging down the side of the house. Lord Rosetti nods as if to encourage her, his hands reaching out, waiting to break her fall.
Please catch me, she thinks, then closes her eyes, swings her legs, and pushes off from the windowsill.
